


But history's made out of violence

by Azzandra



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Blue Lions Route, Dimitri gets sent back to Academy days, Divine Pulse, Fix-It of Sorts, Gen, I have so many sibling feels about Dimitri and Edelgard, and decides to talk things out for once, but it turned out bad, post-canon sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-20
Updated: 2019-11-21
Packaged: 2021-02-18 02:40:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21503869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azzandra/pseuds/Azzandra
Summary: Dimitri loses a war he was never prepared for. But after those who slither in the dark destroy his kingdom, he is sent back to try again. And finding himself back at Garreg Mach before everything started, he takes the opportunity to do things over right this time.(Mostly just an excuse to have Dimitri and Edelgard hash things out, so there's no real plot)
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd & Edelgard von Hresvelg
Comments: 33
Kudos: 228





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Man, the hardest thing about Azure Moon is just seeing Dimitri's whole situation deteriorate. Like, he's gone full murder mode after the timeskip, but let's face it, he was doing badly for a long time before the timeskip, and I can't help thinking that if he'd had a better mental state when the Holy Tomb happened, he wouldn't have gone full unhinged on Edelgard.
> 
> So that's sort of where this fic comes from. I like to believe Dimitri develops some actual coping mechanisms after he becomes king, and having him go back to academy days already having a good grip on himself might have prevented a lot of trouble. (Unrelated, while I think a full sense of humor is a bit beyond Dimitri, I like to believe he learns to be a lot more glib as he gets older.)
> 
> Also, like. I love that when Edelgard asks Byleth to call her El, she mentions it's a name her closest sisters called her... and the other person in canon we see calling her El is Dimitri... closest sisters indeed.
> 
> Anyway, title comes from the song "Sing Along" by Sturgill Simpson:  
> "Compromise is made out of peace  
> But history's made out of violence  
> After the war of the worlds has ceased  
> All that's left is the deafening silence"
> 
> 'S a good song.

Dimitri startled awake, and the utter silence of the room crashed in on him like a physical weight.

No, not complete silence. His breathing was ragged and loud, and his heart beat thunderously in his chest. His head--gripped by a terrible headache--throbbed in time with each pump of his heart. 

He evened out his breaths, and the scalding waves of pain receded slowly to a mere dry ache settled behind his eyes.

Eyes. _Eyes_.

Raising a hand to his face, fingers trembling, Dimitri rubbed across the skin of his right eyelid, felt the flutter of his intact eyeball underneath.

Laughter bubbled up hysterically past his lips, but he bit it off and pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes until colors bloomed in his vision.

If it had worked-- if she'd truly sent him back--

He rose from bed and fumbled in the dark, trying to recall-- ah, but as his hands fumbled across the surface of a table, it was his body more than his mind that recalled the layout of the room. 

He lit the candle on his table to confirm it, and in the faint orange glow, his old room at the Officer's Academy came into view. Quiet and cozy, before five years of abandon had chewed it down to a threadbare and moldy state. Even after they'd done their best to fix up the monastery, there was a certain whiff of mold that his old room retained throughout the war. Now, in this moment, just like the rest of Fodlan, it was whole and clean and unmarked by the devastation that was soon to come. 

Dimitri sat down at his desk, dropping into the chair heavily, and began shuffling through papers-- school assignments, letters-- seeking some indication of the date. His eyes skimmed over the half-finished classwork he'd been working on, but the assignment was unfamiliar to him, too far in the past to have stuck in his memory and offer him any clue. A book had been left open as well, and he slipped the unfinished classwork between its pages, closing and putting it aside.

Fretful as he felt, he ended up tidying his desk in the process, but he did figure out a date eventually, picking up one of his own drafts of a letter, and reading the date at the top. 

Dimitri let out a long exhale, and a fleeting hope he'd been nurturing flickered out like a candle in a cold draft. Jeralt was already dead by this point, wasn't he?

Almost afraid that he would be proven correct, Dimitri knelt next to his bed and reached under the mattress. He groped blindly for long enough to wonder if he was wrong, but his fingers eventually wrapped around the sheath of the dagger he'd hidden there, and he pulled in out from its hiding place to stare at it in the flickering candlelight.

This was the dagger he'd given to Edelgard. The dagger she'd thrown at him when he'd eavesdropped on her in her Flame Emperor guise. The dagger he had given back to her during the war, and the same that would bite into his shoulder at the end of it.

The professor said she would send him as far back as possible. Give him as much time to change things as she could. This was before the incident in the Holy Tomb, yes. Before things fell apart. Before Edelgard's betrayal. But was there really enough time to bend the unyielding arc of history in this short time?

Yet...

He slid the dagger back under the mattress, no matter how childish this hiding spot. Nobody had found it the first time around. He put it out of sight, and tried to put it out of mind as he sat back down at the desk.

He bent over his desktop, head propped in his hands. He stared at the bare surface of the desk as though he might glean answers from the wood grain, and thought fiercely as he did.

Many were yet alive who would die if the same conflict engulfed Fodlan once more. Caught between that knowledge and the ache of the ones left behind, Dimitri found himself out of balance. Listening to the chorus of the dead came easily to him--much too easily at times--but how could he still mourn the ones who had not even died yet? He did not have a frame of reference for this surreal situation, of death being wound back. He had chased retribution for the dead, and was now in the position of truly preventing such a tragedy.

How? How had she done it? How had Byleth's heart been capable of bearing it, constantly witnessing death and then reverting it? He had long since stopped thinking of her as cold and unfeeling, but Dimitri found his own beating heart a terrible burden, now that he was adrift in the past.

* * *

Dimitri wasn't sure at what time of night he'd gotten up, but it was morning when he was finally startled out of his deep thoughts, by the door opening and a chill seeping through.

He blinked, becoming more aware of his surroundings--of the candle burnt down to a stub and long since gone out, of the fact that the faint light in the room was the pending dawn crawling through his window. He became aware of Dedue slowly crossing the threshold of his room, and closing the door soundlessly behind himself.

"Dedue," Dimitri blinked. "Good morning."

"Your Highness," Dedue replied, his eyes flitting between Dimitri's face and the desk, settling on the expanded candle before returning to studying his features.

Dimitri was briefly hurt by Dedue's apparent coldness, before he recalled how much more reserved the man had been during their school days. He hadn't started using Dimitri's name until the tail end of the war.

At the moment, it at least meant Dedue was not bold enough to scold Dimitri on not getting enough sleep. Instead, Dedue strode into the room carrying a pitcher of water, and poured it out into Dimitri's washbasin, on the stand next to his bed. Wisps of steam rose from the water, and Dimitri was warmed merely looking at this sign of Dedue's quiet care. Dimitri was often sleepless during this period of his life, but Dedue cut back on so much of his own resting hours to keep up.

"Thank you," Dimitri said, subdued, unsure if he was thanking Dedue for this or for everything at once. How disconcerting, this scarless, unlined face of his friend, yet inside Dimitri knew him to be the same person he had left behind in a future-that-was.

"It is my pleasure, Your Highness," Dedue replied. 

Dedue slipped out of the room after that, gone to prepare himself for the day.

Left to his own devices, Dimitri took off his shirt, and approached the basin. He leaned over and peered into the water. In the dim light--growing brighter now--he saw his own reflection. Two blue eyes peering back at him from the gently wavering surface of the water. The steam wafted warmly against his face, and Dimitri nearly felt dizzy at the sensation.

Disorienting, that was what it was. He placed a hand over one eye, staring at himself past the blond hair hanging limply around his face. Only one eye looked back, and that felt less discomforting than two. How could he miss a lack of something? 

He raked back his hair and washed his face, scrubbing more firmly as he felt how greasy it felt. He recalled that, even when he did manage to sleep, he would wake drenched in sweat from nightmares that plagued him. But he rather suspected he had also been afflicted with that particular greasiness that seemed to cling to adolescent boys, and he cringed a bit at his own youth.

Evaluating his condition and recalling what he could of this period in his life, Dimitri concluded that this body of his, at this point in time, had been strained by lack of sleep for far too long. He recognized the feel of the headache he would get when fatigued, and he recognized the deep dark circles around his eyes. He could recall how this time of his life felt, but only vaguely. He remembered being tired, stretched thin, increasingly hounded by the voices of the dead. Short-tempered and irrational, until Edelgard's betrayal pushed him to a point that...

His madness during the war had not all been war's doing, Dimitri concluded self-critically. He had already been taking poor care of himself in the lead-up to it, and had been losing control with increased frequency as a result. He could not allow himself this luxury the second time around. He would have to rein in his demons as he hadn't the first time.

He continued washing himself, investigating the differences of this young body. It was tired and battered by the storms of his mind, but it was also in better shape than the one he'd grown into. He traced a hand over his bad shoulder--or, not his bad shoulder anymore. There was no scar there, and no ache from where Edelgard's dagger had buried itself. He stretched and flexed, and there weren't quite as many angry gnarls of skin tugging. He hadn't noticed how much pain he'd carried until all the pain was now gone.

Ah, but just then he felt the twinge from his back. Those scars were still there, and fresher now. He'd almost forgotten, as they'd faded in time and been overtaken by more recent injuries, but now, in this time, they were the ones bothering him most. It felt almost like a badge of honor, these scars he'd taken to save Dedue's life. He could not resent their presence, when he was thankful for the disappearance of wounds gained in far more ignoble circumstances.

His hands skimmed over his torso, taking in the lack of other scars. 

He had been nothing but callow in his youth. No matter how much doubt he'd felt at this plan, now that he was here, Dimitri had no choice but to go through with it. And knowing himself to be half the fool now that he was at half his age, the opportunity to try things again with knowledge he would not have until well into adulthood was beginning to feel more appealing.

* * *

Dimitri dressed himself distractedly, muscle memory taking over as he pulled on his uniform, his cape, his gauntlets. He looked himself over at the end, a bit surprised to see himself dressed so, and more surprised by how familiar it felt, as though only yesterday he'd worn this uniform.

Or--well, he supposed he did wear this uniform the day before. This body had, at least. It seemed to have rhythms and memories of its own, separate from whatever Dimitri had carried back with him from the future, and that was perhaps for the best, if he was going to maintain the pretense of being... himself.

He had a disorienting moment of realization just then, that the young boy Dimitri who had occupied this body just the night before was gone now, in a sense. Dead in some way. Guilt churned cold in his chest, but he put the disturbing thoughts aside.

He put the thoughts aside, uprooting them entirely like wayward weeds. He did not have the luxury of wallowing anymore. 

Instead, after clipping his sword in place, he reached under his mattress and took the dagger as well, hesitating for a moment before placing this dagger as well on his hip. It was best he dealt with this sooner rather than later. Time was running away from him fast.

There was a surreal quality to his morning as he started towards the dining hall for breakfast. He crossed paths with Felix, who didn't even bother to glare at Dimitri before shouldering past him and quickly walking ahead. Sylvain emerged from his room with a jaw-popping yawn, likely because he'd been out carousing all night. Before Ingrid could fall into step with Sylvain and start lecturing, he ran to catch up with Felix, pretending he hadn't even seen her. Ingrid adjusted her trajectory to join Dimitri instead.

"Good morning, Your Highness," Ingrid greeted him, and this time Dimitri was struck by how similar this was to the way she greeted him every morning she saw him as his knight. Some things were immutable even with time's passing, he supposed. 

He smiled as he nodded his greeting, and it was perhaps a bit too fond, because she gave him a searching look in response.

"Did you get a good night's sleep?" she asked.

"Not really," he admitted, and could see her flinch in response.

"I'm sorry--" she began.

"Oh, no! No, no, Ingrid, it's quite alright," he said. "I've merely come to the realization I cannot carry on as I have."

Far from looking assured, this seemed to alarm Ingrid instead. She stopped in her tracks, her eyes large and shining as she stared at him.

Ah, perhaps he could have phrased that in a less alarming way. Ingrid of his day would have understood, because by that point he'd become more candid about his struggles with those in his inner circle. But at this point in time, he'd been on a distinct downward spiral, and not open to receiving help.

"What I mean to say," he added quickly, as he stopped as well and raised his hands in reassurance, "is that it is irresponsible of me to let my headaches and lack of sleep impair me. I would not be doing my best as head of house if I allowed such a thing. So, if you wish to hold me to it, I will drop in at the infirmary after classes are over."

Ingrid's mouth opened in a soundless 'oh', before relief spread across her face like a ray of sun emerging through the clouds.

"I'm glad," she said. "Not that you're in pain and not sleeping! Just that you're getting help for it!"

She was so buoyed by this relief, that she put her hand to his arm and squeezed.

"Now, if we could only get Sylvain to sleep in his own bed at night," Dimitri said, startling a huff of laughter out of Ingrid.

"Your Highness, you've been working on your sense of humor!" she said, almost like an accusation. But she was delighted, as much as Ingrid allowed herself to show such things.

"It is a work in progress," Dimitri said, then gestured Ingrid along, towards the dining hall. "Shall we?"

* * *

It was strange how easily some things fell into place. His feet carried him through the monastery, from dining hall to classroom to training grounds. 

Some things that he could have barely recalled if asked about them in his own time now came easily to his mind, and the pervasive sense of the familiar had become downright eerie.

Still less reassuring were the things that shocked him as though seen for the first time. The Professor was waiting in the doorway of the classroom as her students filed in, and Dimitri was surprised that he came up eye to eye with her. It was jarring to realize he still had enough height to grow that he would one day need to look downwards to catch her gaze, and reflexively he straightened up his shoulders, in contrast to how he would slouch down one day to bring his face even with hers.

Unused as he was to her height (or, rather, to his own), still he had forgotten the shade of her hair and the blueness of her eyes before the touch of the goddess had changed them. It would have been nostalgic, but for how she wore her grief like a heavy cloak. Scarcely had she even learned to smile, and by the redness of her eyes, he could tell she had now gotten used to crying. But there was nothing for it; Jeralt was too recently dead, and she had not even gotten her revenge, such as it was. Such as it had been.

Dimitri paused in the doorway after his classmates had already passed into the room, and he caught the Professor's gaze before he entered as well. He had no more words to give, and words would not help speed along her grieving, but he shared a look with her anyway, quietly supportive, and when her gaze fell away again, there was almost a smile that threaten to ghost across her lips.

He felt his skin tight and hot, tingling with a kind of eagerness, and he nearly groaned as he remembered--ah. He'd had a crush on the Professor, hadn't he. The mortifying trials of adolescence had thankfully slipped his mind, and he had not understood at the time that a crush was what he had been experiencing, but now he had to contend with the knowledge of why he had always been so hungry for his Professor's attention in his schoolboy days.

Well, he would have to put a pin in that for now, and deal with it, possibly, never. 

He slid into his seat for the lecture, and half-listened to his Professor's subdued voice. To the cadence of her words, he considered his own thoughts.

If he changed things, would she still have her revenge against Kronya? It had been ashes in her mouth the first time, but would it serve the Professor in any way to have that revenge now?

Or, better question, would the Professor be happy to lose Sothis once again, when acting to interfere and change things may well prevent such a thing?

Dimitri supposed he was getting ahead of himself. There was yet something he had to do before he could get to those who slither in the dark. Two things, really. Two conversations.

He did not relish the first, but it would be the most difficult hurdle, and with the greatest potential for decisive advantage if he could pull it off. Also the highest potential for unmitigated disaster if he didn't. He would have to make his peace with either outcome.


	2. Chapter 2

The last time he had seen Edelgard had not been in truth. She had been one of the restless dead, clad in imperial red and wordlessly bleeding as she looked at him with accusatory eyes. 

The last time he had seen Edelgard in the flesh, she had buried a dagger in his shoulder, and he had buried a lance in her belly, and they had parted ways eternally.

The first time he saw Edelgard after his arrival in the past, she was only passing him in the hallways of Garreg Mach, barely acknowledging him with the flicker of a glance. She strode in the opposite direction with Hubert on her heels.

Dimitri felt the chill of the grave crawl down his back, and that kept him walking on for three more steps, before he broke through the ice of his cowardice and stopped; he turned around.

Nobody here but him and Edelgard--and Hubert, who was as good as her shadow. He had told himself he would speak to her the next time they saw each other, but the moment came sooner than he expected or would have liked. He hadn't even dropped by the infirmary as he had planned for the day, and he had not been compiling arguments as he would have wanted.

It was too soon, but unprepared as he was, he still felt he would lose his nerve if he did not do this now.

Hubert peered over his shoulder at Dimitri, having heard his abrupt halt. An attentive retainer, eyes in the back of his head for Edelgard and her safety. Inconvenient, at the moment.

"Edelgard," Dimitri called out, and only then did she stop, turning slowly. 

"...Dimitri," she said, regarding him impassively.

"I was hoping to have a moment of your time," he said.

Her expression, coldly curious, shifted into something else--equally cold but dismissive instead of curious. She did not wish to speak to him, because she had already made her mind up about him. She'd decided that he was nobody she could persuade to her cause, and so he had become a sacrificial piece, to be shuffled off the board at earliest convenience.

But that had been the old Dimitri, who had not yet had his kingdom torn apart by those who slither in the dark, and who had not yet learned the steep price of ignorance.

"We have nothing to say to each other," Edelgard said, running a hand down the length of her hair and flipping it over her shoulder as she turned.

Dimitri's hand went to the dagger at his waist. Hubert's hand, hidden behind the line of his body as he was half-turned, twitched with a concealed spell, doubtless ready to cut Dimitri down. Or maybe a dagger, to sink into Dimitri's eye.

"I have something of yours to return," Dimitri said, and he slid the dagger out of its sheath.

Edelgard turned back towards him. She showed not a twitch of surprise at the dagger, because she doubtless knew someone would find it after she had flung it at her eavesdroppers. But he could see, in the quiet percolation of thoughts behind her eyes, that she surmised Dimitri would not appear so calm if he knew she was the Flame Emperor. 

Still, she kept very still as she looked the dagger over, feigning disinterest.

"Oh? Where did you find this little thing?" she asked.

"I found it hurtling towards my face, of course," Dimitri replied. "After you threw it at me."

It was a wonder the temperature in the hallway didn't drop for the frosty glares Dimitri received in return.

"Such accusations are quite beneath you, Dimitri," Edelgard said, "considering you have no proof this dagger even belongs to me."

"Ah, you don't recall," Dimitri said mildly, holding the dagger up in both his hands, the same way he had been holding it when he offered it to her the first time.

Behind Edelgard's mask, he could see the stir of concern. Something was tugging at her memories, enough that she knew Dimitri was referencing something specific, but she did not fully grasp it yet and it left her uneasy not to know her footing in this conversation.

"You don't remember I was the one who first gave it to you, do you, El?"

Edelgard froze up, and that was how he knew she remembered now. She might still deny--that she was the Flame Emperor, that the dagger belonged to her, any number of things Dimitri couldn't easily prove anyway. But in the face of Dimitri's calm, unaffected demeanor, she surely realized that there was something more he had to say to her, and, hungry for any advantage, compelled to know what every piece in the game was doing, she could not let an opportunity pass her by if she might learn something new and use it to her advantage.

She made a sign to Hubert, and he inclined his head in response. He gave Dimitri a sinister grin and held his hands up to show he was unarmed and not calling any spells.

"We should talk somewhere private," Edelgard said, turning on her heel with the full expectation Dimitri would follow. Which he did; it was the whole point.

They found an empty classroom, and Edelgard strode into it confidently. Dimitri followed, and Hubert a step behind him, no doubt ready to take Dimitri out if he made any move against Edelgard. The first hitch didn't occur until she told Hubert to keep watch outside the door.

"Lady Edelgard, I must protest," Hubert said automatically.

Edelgard took a deep breath in, the kind of inhale that might lead into a long sigh, but before she could argue, Dimitri interjected.

"It is better he not linger outside," Dimitri said, garnering confusion and suspicion from both Edelgard and Hubert, though in different proportions. "It will only draw attention if he is guarding a door so obviously. He may stand by the door and bar entry to anyone attempting to get in, but he will have to do it from the inside."

They both looked at him as though he had just sprouted a second head, and doubly perturbed that the second head thus appeared also produced a thought they would agree with, but Hubert did not wish to be parted from Edelgard and Edelgard did not wish a prolonged hashing out of who should stand where, so they were not inclined to disagree with Dimitri's suggestion.

Still, it changed the air in the room. Edelgard stepped deeper into the classroom, rounding the rows of desks as casually as she might without making it obvious she was putting obstacles between herself and Dimitri. It was a strategic move, liable to be useful against anyone else, except Dimitri was confident that, with his strength, he could not only tear past the desks, but possibly push against them hard enough to unbolt them from the floor and crush Edelgard between one of them and the wall. In some violent part of his head, he pictured that exact scene, the crunch of bones, the trail of blood down Edelgard's chin as the light faded from her eyes. It was the same part of his mind that pictured her head hung above the gates of Enbarr, and so he shuttered it down and pushed it back until he couldn't taste the smoke in his throat anymore.

Hubert, lightly balanced on the balls of his feet like a gargoyle waiting to swoop down, took his position in the shadow of the doorframe. That was his only purpose as far as Dimitri was concerned; he would ignore how Hubert had a clear shot at flinging a spell right into Dimitri wherever he might walk through the room. He also ignored how Edelgard and Hubert positioned themselves at such opposite angles to Dimitri that he would not be able to look at them both at the same time. He could not begrudge them the caution.

"What is it that you wish to discuss with me?" Edelgard asked, straightforward as ever.

Well, it was a good question, and Dimitri wished he'd had the time to consider an answer before he was flung directly into this discussion, but time was no longer a luxury he had.

"If we are to cut to the point, then I should say I am aware you are the Flame Emperor," Dimitri said. He felt more than heard the shift in the air behind him, the ozone scent of a spell being prepared. "...Please tell Hubert to put his hand down, I did not come here to attack you."

"Pardon Hubert's zeal, but that was not the impression I got at Remire Village," Edelgard replied.

"That..." Dimitri let out a long-suffering sigh. He could barely explain that he had been a different person back then, when 'back then' was not truly all that long ago. "I was not at my best, at Remire, admittedly. I will not say I did not mean what I said back then, because I truly intended to rip the heads off anyone responsible for that tragedy."

"Ah, but knowing that I am the Flame Emperor changes things," Edelgard said.

"Knowing you are the Flame Emperor is not what changes things," Dimitri said. "It was learning there are more dangerous creatures in the world that has me worried."

Edelgard's expression was brittle with the strain of not allowing herself to hope. She had given up once on him, believing the most she could hope was not to make an enemy of him. Perhaps by this point in the timeline, that opinion had cemented. But Dimitri held on to the words he had not thought of in ten years, that she did not wish to be his enemy. He did not wish to be hers, either. But neither could he follow down her precise path, and so, he had to nudge her course to something he could tolerate. To one they could walk alongside.

She stepped out from among the rows of desks, no longer putting obstacles between them. But she stayed far to the other end of the room, and in the yawning chasm between them--a few steps across the floor and years between them--her voice carried a question.

"What do you think you know, Dimitri?"

He chuckled rustily; nothing like his unhinged laughter when his blood thrummed with violence, but it still made her leery.

"To be honest, most secrets I have learned lately are not mine to share. Let me see..." 

He considered, went over the things he had learned during the war, and then the things he had pieced together with Byleth during their clashes with those who slither in the dark. His thoughts skittered around the last time he had seen Byleth--lances of light bearing down on them, her strained expression as she held time frozen in a wheel of light, the touch of her lips on Dimitri's forehead, like a benediction before she flung him back--but he couldn't dwell on that. He needed to stay detached.

What would Edelgard know, of all the things Dimitri had learned? What would her dangerous allies have let her see? What had she gone to war over, the first time she'd gone to war?

"Ah, I suppose--Lady Rhea," Dimitri finally settled on a suitable subject to breach. "I know she can transform in a creature known as the Immaculate One."

The silence that followed had a potent quality to it, best described as nearly comical. If Dimitri could see Hubert's face--which he could not, the man was still lurking behind him--he imagined the expression on it was the same as Edelgard's: a kind of startled dismay, as though one picked up what appeared to be a harmless garden snake and discovered it to actually be a venomous viper from across the sea.

Edelgard cleared her throat, and the rasp of it seemed to bounce off the walls much too loudly.

"You are remarkably calm for having had such a revelation," Edelgard said, eyes narrowing. "As the heir to the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus... does this not affect your loyalty to the Church?"

"If you mean to ask if my loyalty would be affected by knowing leaders of the Church are inhuman creatures, then to be honest, no. That alone would not do it. Even amongst ourselves, humans call each other dogs and animals and savages to reduce those not like us to something less than a person, and easier to dismiss and kill. I see this as a cruelty we do to each other, and I would see it as a cruelty towards any other thinking, feeling creature, to treat it as lesser for not being human."

"So you would simply allow monsters to rule over us, just to prove how accepting you are?" Edelgard said, fire burning in her eyes.

"I did not say that," Dimitri replied, shaking his head. "Whatever is impermissible for humans to do, it is also impermissible for any other thinking creature. I would not spare them judgment for any transgressions."

"So you agree, then," Edelgard said, "that what the Church is doing is impermissible. That lying to us, keeping us fighting with each other so that they may more easily rule over us--"

"It is corruption, yes," Dimitri said. "It cannot be allowed."

Edelgard let out a long breath, shaky but satisfied as though she had been holding it inside for a very long time. To have her outlook validated by someone she would think was most opposed to it must have reached inside her and unwound doubts even she did not know she had. It was never something that would have occurred to Dimitri when he'd been her age, because he had always gotten the sense she was more ready than him to bear the weight of a crown, but beneath her self-possessed exterior, Edelgard was still very young. She was more than an heir, or a future Emperor, and perhaps lost beneath the facade was a girl who only wanted the world to listen to her and see that she was right. 

"But..." Dimitri said, and on the edge of this little word he held her for the space of a breath, with the anticipation of betrayal, of an argument, of cutting into her. Her eyes were steady, her breaths even, and if Edelgard ever faced an executioner, Dimitri knew this was how she'd go to her death, too. "But if I am repulsed by others trampling over the people of Fodlan in the guise of it being for their own good, then I am doubly repulsed by the thought of engaging in such behavior myself."

"Even if it the only way to save innocents?" Edelgard asked. "Even if you weigh the deaths of letting the injustice stand against the deaths that it would take to eliminate it, and find the price necessary?"

"Ah, but let us talk concretely of the price, Edelgard," he said. "You find yourself between two enemies." He raised his hands, held them like the plates of a scale. One hand empty, the other still holding the dagger. "You must eliminate both to save Fodlan. But you have no resources to fight on two fronts, so you must choose. Fight those who slither in the dark--" 

Edelgard flinched, and Dimitri recalled that he had not yet revealed in this conversation that he'd known about their existence. A mistake, but one he was willing to gloss over. 

"--and your resources alone will not be enough. They are buried too deep, and will go to ground even deeper, like a tick under the skin, the instant they sense danger from you. Worse yet, they may even eliminate you out of hand. So, then, the obvious enemy to tackle first is the Church. An easier opponent for an inexperienced Emperor to cut her teeth on, and the chaos of a war can conceal any moves you make against those who slither in the dark."

"But the Church would not go into such a war without allies," Edelgard said.

"Not without the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus at its back, you mean," Dimitri said with a small shrug. "And perhaps half the Leicester Alliance, as well. It would be difficult for you to win such a conflict, but the difficulty of it would prepare you for yet larger trials. Yes, I can see how fighting this war first would seem like the better idea."

"But apparently you do not believe so."

"It is not that," Dimitri shook his head. "Your calculations are correct. Those who slither in the dark are by far the more dangerous enemy, and harder to defeat with your back against the wall. In your position... I might be forced to admit the same. But when new numbers are added to the equation, you may discover the balance has shifted in your favor considerably."

Edelgard was looking at him, stunned, staring as though at a stranger for the first time. He had revealed things she did not expect, and perhaps she now assessed whether he might be her enemy after all. She did not expect him to speak to her as he did; as a king, instead of a reluctant prince.

"What has happened to you, Dimitri?" she asked. "Never mind how you learned all of this, how could you do so without completely--" She cut herself off with a shake of the head.

"Without breaking?" Dimitri chuckled ruefully. Then, on reflection, "Perhaps because I had already broken for a while, and been put together again stronger by those who cared for my well-being. As for how I learned such things..." He shrugged. "The story is so convoluted, I am afraid you would scarcely believe it. Though I will have to tell you about it one day, when I am no longer bound to keep others' secrets."

"I would never had imagined it happening," Edelgard said, eyes narrowed. "You, of all people, teasing secret knowledge."

"It is-- ah," Dimitri shifted awkwardly, and thumbed at the hilt of the dagger still in his hands. "I may be overstating things, truly. In fact there are many blanks in my knowledge that I have never managed to fill, and that may prove dangerous to me in the long run. Though... perhaps there is a question you can answer."

"...I will try," Edelgard said, cautious to promise nothing.

"I was told by one of those who orchestrated the Tragedy of Duscur that the Lady Patricia--" He could see the tangle of complicated emotions in Edelgard's face already, but he forged on. "That she may have been convinced to be complicit in how the events played out. That, in exchange for her cooperation, she would be allowed to see her daughter one last time. To see you. Did you ever..."

But no, as he watched Edelgard's face, he could already see the answer to the question plainly, even if the words may have lodged in her throat.

He hung his head, trying to vent all his anger out in one long exhale. 

"I see," he said. He shook his head, like a beast shaking off water. "You understand, for what happened, for all the deaths caused, I cannot forgive her betrayal. But for your sake, I had at least hoped she would have been granted the ill-gotten reward promised to her."

Edelgard's lips were pressed together, her expression tight. But her hand curled against her chest, nails digging into the ruffles at her neck like she was trying to hold pieces of her heart together.

Perhaps the question had been cruel, on his part. No, it had definitely been cruel. He regretted asking. But now that it was out between them, better that she be reminded the spoils of working with her dangerous allies. 

"At any rate, I do not expect you to make any decisions regarding our discussion yet," Dimitri said, offering her the dagger. This time, he did not hold it sideways as one offered a gift. He offered it hilt-first, as one returned a weapon to its owner. "I will give you time to consider."

"And what," Edelgard asked, "am I considering?" 

She closed the distance between them in three long strides. Her hands went to the hilt of the dagger and wrapped around it. And she paused. In this position, with the tip of the dagger aimed squarely towards Dimitri's chest, all she might have done was push forward with all her weight, and plunge it directly into his heart. He would not allow it, but she could attempt it; she may well have even been considering, as she looked at him.

"When I first gifted you this dagger," he said, "it was with the wish that you may cut your own path in life. But I see now it was insufficient. A paltry defense against the overwhelming forces arraigned against you. Now, what I offer to you is something more substantial. Fodlan united against those who slither in the dark."

And if his discussion with Claude went well, perhaps help from beyond Fodlan as well. But Dimitri did not make any promises yet.

"And all I have to do in exchange is--what, allow the Church to carry on as they have?" she asked.

"No," Dimitri said. "It is a condition of my help that we deal with the Church later, but deal with it we will. But when the time comes... I hope you will understand why I wish to do so with as little bloodshed as possible."

"A discussion to be had later, then," Edelgard said.

"Many discussions, I suspect." 

Slowly, she took the dagger, and he passed the sheath to it as well.

"Tell me why," Edelgard demanded, as she slid the dagger into its sheath. It was not a question, but an order. Imperious as expected, but Dimitri did not begrudge her the tone, after the lapse into vulnerability. "Why would you help me?"

"Because you are still someone I consider a sister," Dimitri replied frankly, and Edelgard was startled into looking up at him. If he had turned around and plunged the dagger into her heart, she still would not have been as surprised by that as by his words. "I have failed so many of my friends and family. I have lost so many people I cared for. It may be selfish of me, or arrogant to believe I can accomplish it, but I refuse to give one more inch to tragedy."

Her eyes dropped to the floor, and she did not respond to his brazen sentimentality. She may well have considered it foolish. But she did not say so, either.

"I can't simply agree to your offer," Edelgard said. "Even if I believe it is sincere, I cannot--"

"I understand," Dimitri bobbed his head in a nod. "I've given you too much to think about. I only request that you consider my offer."

"I will," Edelgard said, with a softness to her voice that gave him hope. 

She brushed past him, and Hubert opened the door for her. As she stepped outside, Hubert paused with his hand on the door handle to give Dimitri a blistering glare. Hubert did not say anything, but compounded in that acidic look were many promises of pain should Dimitri prove himself false, or a liar. Dimitri gave a polite nod of acknowledgment in response. 

He lingered in the classroom for a few minutes more, rubbing at his throbbing temples as he waited to exit when Edelgard and Hubert were further away. Better that they not be seen together, if possible.

By the time he left as well, he nearly collided with Ingrid, who had been looking for him.

"Have you been to the infirmary yet, Your Highness?" she asked.

When he had told her she could hold him to it, he had not quite expected her to take him so seriously, but it made him smile to himself. Ever the loyal knight, his Ingrid.

"I was just headed there," Dimitri said. 

He pulled the classroom door closed behind him, and on all the secrets which lingered on the air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think my only real motivation for writing this fic was just to experience the catharsis of Dimitri and Edelgard actually talking things out instead of jumping straight to murder, so I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did, because I wasn't kidding when I said there is no plot.


End file.
